


Age Is But A Number

by HeWhoShallNotBeCaughtReadingFanFics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Midlife Crisis, Milestones, Parentlock, domestic!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeWhoShallNotBeCaughtReadingFanFics/pseuds/HeWhoShallNotBeCaughtReadingFanFics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violet Watson Holmes is a woman now and John Watson hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Age Is But A Number

**Author's Note:**

> Finally typing an oldie

"Papa! Father!"

Violet yelled out as she ran frantically out of the bathroom and into the main room of 221B Baker Street. The usual random burst of energy did not disturb the doctor reading the newspaper in his arm chair or the detective slouched on the couch in deep thought. 

"I'm bleeding," she stated calmly. 

This woke the two up. Immediately, John Watson leaped from his seat and ran into the bathroom to grab his first aid kit. As he did this, his partner, Sherlock Holmes, jumped from his prayer position to hold their daughter down to examine her. 

"Where? Where are you hurt? What happened? Who did it? Are you alright," John asked hurriedly. 

"I'm fine, Papa, just some abdominal pain. Nothing's happened. I'm just bleeding," she replied. 

"Where? I don't see-."

Sherlock gasped. 

John and Violet looked at each other in deep thought, telepathically asking each other further questions. Finally, Sherlock continued.

"Violet, you're twelve years old."

"Obviously, Father."

"John, I'll be back. I've got to make a run to the shop. While I'm gone, don't sit anywhere, Violet, understood?"

The brunette haired man grabbed his coat and scar and dramatically, as always, left the flat. He seemed disgusted, but highly enthused by the situation. 

Unfortunately, he left John in a sticky situation. The young girl in front of him stared at him with fearful hazel eyes that plagued him with new ideas that he hadn't considered before. When Molly volunteered to be their surrogate, John had secretly hoped for a boy; someone rough and tough, yet, with Sherlock as a role model, smart and intellectual thoughts. Once baby Violet was born and in his arms, he couldn't help, but feel dumb. Violet could do that and more. He loved her no matter what gender. Soon enough, he found himself at the store buying little dresses and skirts. He wanted to make sure that she had what he needed. Only this time, John didn't know what she needed. 

"Okay, Vi. You know what Father said. Let's go make dinner. What're we hungry for tonight?"

He smiled weakly towards her as she pondered to herself. 

"Do we have any chocolate?"

"You want chocolate for dinner," John scoffed, "You are going to drive me nuts. How about some pasta and some hot chocolate until your father comes home?"

~

About twenty minutes later, Sherlock arrived back in the apartment with a full bag of goodies for his daughter, who was still standing, happily slurping away at her hot chocolate. 

"Well, Sherlock, what've you got?

The detective looked at his daughter. 

"It is appears that Violet here," he cleared his throat, "is on her first cycle. She's a woman now, John."

"Oh, god...," John groaned.

Violet was shocked at why her dads were both uncomfortable. Utterly confused, she began to speak. 

"Well of course I'm a woman! I have two X chromosomes and reproductive parts and curves! Why is that such a shock?! What does it mean, 'first cycle'?"

As John had a mini-breakdown consisting of pacing back and forth throughout the first floor and a mumbling chant of "ohmygodohmygodohmygod", Sherlock stood there wondering what to do next. Then he thought of the most logical thing to do.

"MRS. HUDSON!"

~

Moments later, Violet was having a nice chat with old landlady about the facts of life. Meanwhile, in the bedroom of the blogger and his best mate, they were having a conversation of their own. 

"Are you alright," Sherlock croaked out.

"No."

"What's wrong? Violet's getting older. She's hitting puberty. It was bound to happen."

John sat next to his husband on their bed and covered his face with the palms of his hand. 

"Well, that's the problem," he paused and sat up once more before continuing, "she's changing, Sherlock. Violet might not be the same girl she is now in six months. Maybe one day, she'll resent us or even come to hate us. One day, she might run away. All I'm saying is that time changes us and sometimes and it's not for the better. You know what, I should probably check on her."

John got up to leave, only to have his arm be pulled back by Sherlock. He shot him a glare aiming directly at his heart. 

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm not saying it's wrong, but time changes us not only for the worse either. All those years ago, you changed me, but for the better. Do you remember when we met? I was alone and bitter. I still claim to be a high functioning sociopath, but I'm yours. I'm not alone anymore and I'm not bitter. Also I know you know what was wrong with her. You're a doctor, John!"

"I know that. Yes, you're right, but if she's growing up, so are we. If she's changing, we're changing, too. I don't want that to happen. I like where we are right now. I like how I love you and you love me back. I don't want that to change. Never."

"It's not going to. When we are both in our 80s, still working on cases and writing blogs, I will still love you. When either of us is on our deathbeds, I will still love you. Even when we're both dead, I will still love you. I think you would have deduced this much from me from all these years, but I will always love you, John Watson-Holmes and so will Violet, too. Although she's growing up, she'll still be our daughter."

Immediately, John's lips attacked his husband's. They melted into each other, kissing passionately. Lack of oxygen pulling them apart, John began to speak.

"Did I really just have a midlife crisis?"

"This will be a funny story to tell the grandchildren."

"One day at a time, Sherlock."

They exited the room to find their towheaded daughter sitting at a table reading a pamphlet on tampons with a pulsed looked on her face. Mrs. Hudson directed her attention to the men.

"And you two! Shame on you, leaving to get her pads and Midol when you've been missing plain jam for a week! You know I can't take that at this old age!"

"Just one day at a time..."


End file.
